


The Stars Will Tell Our Tale

by AsterAspera



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, But Only For One Chapter - Freeform, Drowning, Historical Elements, I'm not a monster, M/M, Multi, Probably Historical Innaccuracy, Semi Graphic Description of Injury, Some period typical homophobia, Sort of? - Freeform, There will be fluff, all sides are genderfluid, because i make the rules here, but not a lot, ig?, im trying my best here alright?, it's all pretty mild tho, major character death but they don't stay dead, more tags will probably be added, oodles of angst, semi graphic decription of death, some period typical sexism, the sides use neo pronouns, there will also be a happy ending, this isn't a story about that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:46:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29961132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsterAspera/pseuds/AsterAspera
Summary: Once there were five of them. Resplendent in their power, all knowing and ethereal.One, forged in the fires that lit homes.One, born from the cheerful calls of children and the sadness that curls around your bones.One, melted from the shadows on the walls and the terrors that prey on lone adventurers.One, created from grand words and wisdom.And one, spun from small lies and grand deceptions, from selfishness and choices, from the despicable concept of free will.They weren’t worshipped, humanity never noticed the gentle forces that guided them, but they were powerful.Together they ruled and shaped the destinies of men.~A love story spanning centuries, weaving itself into the very fabric of our reality.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil/Creativity | Roman/Deceit | Janus/Logic | Logan/Morality | Patton (Sanders Sides), Anxiety | Virgil/Creativity | Roman/Logic | Logan/Morality | Patton
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11





	1. Hand in hand at the end of the world

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so quick note, in the first chapter the sides all use neo pronouns. This will change in later chapters.
> 
> For clarity:  
> Logan: xe/xir  
> Virgil: voi/void  
> Roman: ze/zir  
> Patton: ey/eir  
> Janus: fae/faer

Once there were five of them. Resplendent in their power, all knowing and ethereal.

One, forged in the fires that lit homes.

One, born from the cheerful calls of children and the sadness that curls around your bones.

One, melted from the shadows on the walls and the terrors that prey on lone adventurers.

One, created from grand words and wisdom.

And one, spun from small lies and grand deceptions, from selfishness and choices, from the despicable concept of  _ free will. _

They weren’t worshipped, humanity never noticed the gentle forces that guided them, but they were powerful. 

Together they ruled and shaped the destinies of men. 

Feelings and home danced together to create love, together they forged families that lasted eternities and built homes to keep them safe.

Wisdom and fear joined forces to drive humans forward in evolution, pushing them to build stronger homes, weapons and more efficient food systems. 

And deceit thrived within it all, weaving an intricate web between them, teaching humanity to love and lie, to converse and argue.

It was never supposed to last. That’s what they said. It was just an experiment.

_ Humanity. _

They spat out the word like a curse. They had failed, they said. There was just no purpose for them, they said.

Logic argued, xir righteous fury burning brighter than home’s flames ever had, told them humanity was special. Told them they could be so much more, they were a species like nothing had never seen before. Xe told them of the way they loved and cherished life, of the way fear brought them together instead of driving them apart, of the intensity with which they bled and felt and cried, xir attention sweeping proudly over xir partners.

Deceit stood behind them, waiting, hoping, logic could get through to them. Logic’s calm authority never failed to make others listen. 

They didn’t listen, of course they didn’t. They had never cared for  _ minor  _ beings like them.

For the first time in faer existence, deceit felt the cold presence of fear.

Without humanity, they were nothing.

It would end in fire and flame. If cliches had existed back then, home would have loudly proclaimed it one. 

They picked a hill that wasn’t really a hill to fight a fight that wasn’t really a fight. For the hill was only really a hill in the way the stars were the lost souls of the dead. And the fight was only really a fight in the way an ant is ground to dust under an unyielding boot.

They curled together one last time before the end, wrapping their shifting, breaking forms around each other. An embrace in all the ways lovers came together and parents cradled their children and every moment where humans held each other.

Deceit tried not to think of how very human they all felt.

_ They _ came, unyielding, unflinching. 

Fear stood before them, letting dark, inky trails of terror leak out. Every dark thought, every lonely night, every shadow in the corner of your eyes swirled together under voids eyes. Voi had never looked so terrifying as in that moment. 

It didn’t matter. They tore through fear’s defence like ink through wet paper. Leaving void gasping on the ground, lungs that didn’t need to breathe pushing air in and out in that very human way.

Home ignited in anger, trying to twist the flames sent from the heavens. They didn’t listen. The destructive, ravaging flames were nothing like the hearths zir tended. 

They looked at each other in desperation, tears,  _ human  _ tears gathering in emotion’s eyes. 

_ This is the end _ Fear told them, in voids twisting tongue of terror.

_ We’re going to win!  _ proclaimed home in the language of stories told around fires.

_ I have a plan  _ Logic told them in the cold, unflinching language of numbers.

They turned to emotions. The strongest of them, the basis of all they were, of all that made humanity human.

Ey looked at them with a certain kind of hopelessness.

_ Not without you  _ emotions whispered.

Deceit almost pitied emotions, if fae had the capacity to.

Eir protests didn’t matter. Something had to be done. And who would ever dare question logic?

Logic went first, always one to lead by example. Xe sunk to their knees in front of emotions, bowing xir head. 

_ Are you sure? _

_ This is the only way _

There was no fear when xir form crumbled, just quiet acceptance. 

Fear went next, pressing a last gentle kiss to emotions’ form. 

_ We will meet again _ Voi promised and deceit doubted.

Home approached, the last of them to go. Ze offered emotions a tearful smile.

Deceit sulked in the shadows, waiting till all were gone. Fae watched with mounting fear as home collapsed in on zirself, burning out like a flame left untended.

Then, deceit slithered forward, catching the trembling and weeping form of emotions in faer arms. Ey sunk into deceit, always so trusting.

Emotions was coming apart at the seams, the combined power of four beings swirling inside em, tearing, destroying: a toxic mixture.

Deceit cradled eir form close.

_ It’s alright  _ Fae whispered in the silver tongue of lies.

Emotions sobbed, the sound amplified thrice over the barren hill.

Deceit felt the sweet call of the powers in eir form, the power the others had so selfishly kept away from faer. 

Emotions was too weak for this. Ey trembled and whimpered, eir form coming undone. Someone stronger was needed to close the rift.

Deceit pressed close to emotions, twisting their forms together in an ugly echo of their earlier embrace. 

_ Look to the stars  _ Deceit murmured.

And emotions opened eir large, tearful eyes, eyes that held so many emotions, and turned them to the sky.

_ They’re so beautiful  _ Ey gasped.

Deceit reached forward, wrapped faerself around their bonds and  _ tugged.  _

Emotions gasped and a chilling rush of betrayal washed over deceit.

Deceit pulled away, uncoiling faer form and wrapping it around the power. The burning, gasping, writhing sensation filled faer. 

Fae watched as emotions reached towards faer, as eir form crumbled and faded. 

Deceit turned towards the sky, spun out the power, let it rage through faer. 

They towered over earth, their anger a burning, devouring thing. 

_ No more  _ Deceit thought and let it go. 

Fae sent a cold wave of terror to push them back, terror like they had never felt before, terror like only humans were able to experience it. 

Fae tried not to think of fear’s dark eyes boring into faers as they stood side by side in the night, tried not to think of voids gentle hands slipping into faers.

Deceit stitched closed the rift between earth and them with cold, harsh logic. From now on, this world would operate on the unflinching laws of physics instead of the fickle whims of celestial beings. 

Fae ignored the memories of standing next to logic, weaving the first beginnings of speech for humanity.

Fae strengthened the bonds with all of emotions steadfastness, eir unwavering devotion. Ey had been the oldest, eir power had always been the strongest.

Memories of emotions giggling like a child as a mother ran after her son in play, of eir beaming proudly as a father taught his son to hunt.

And lastly, with the fires home tended, faer burned closed the rift, sealing it forever.

Fae shuddered as home’s warmth left them, all the memories of zir holding deceit disappearing like smoke.

Deceit collapsed to the smoking, charred ground, choking on ashes and the bitter memories of things fae would never have again. 

Fae raised faer eyes to the sky, where the rift burned bright and sent out the last dregs of what remained of faer bond, a tattered, severed thing now the others were gone, for how could deceit exist without them? Fae hid the gaping wound of the sky, painting starry constellations and a dark night sky.

_ Just like before  _ Fae thought. and thick tears rolled down faer cheeks, not godly ones, not celestial ones, just human ones, broken and imperfect.


	2. Ashes, ashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now that we're getting into the historical part of the fic, I want to give a disclaimer. The historical events taking place in this fic largely transpire in Europe. The fact is that unfortunately, my education is largely eurocentric. Whilst I would love to learn more about the history of other continents, and actively try to inform myself, I did not feel secure enough in my knowledge to attempt to write about these events.  
> I hope you respect and understand my decision and if anyone wants to talk to me about historical events from other places than Europe, I would love to hear it! You can always message me on tumblr @aster-aspera

Virgil walked through the busy street, eyes glued to the ground, feet resolutely carrying him forward. He tried his best not to focus on the press of sweaty bodies against his bare arms, on the cloying dust that filled his eyes and throat, on the the shouts of merchants that rang out across the street.

He clutched the  _ tablina _ closer to his chest.

A shoulder careened into him and he stumbled over something, could have been a rock, could have been something worse. A hand closed itself around his bicep before he ended up in the middle of the mire and mud that filled the streets. The hand pulled him away from the edge of the sidewalk and steadied him. 

Virgil felt a rush of gratitude. His master would not be pleased if he turned up covered in horse shit.

“ _ Gratias tibi ago. _ ” He murmured, keeping his eyes downcast, noting the resplendent white toga his mysterious saviour was wearing.  _ I give thanks. _

The stranger didn’t reply, merely tightened their grip on his arm. Virgil eyes flickered upward furtively and were immediately caught on the stranger’s eyes. Dark eyes that seemed to swirl with the knowledge of a thousand lifetimes, eyes that seemed to be filled with fractured, shifting glass and felt so, so familiar.

Virgil swallowed and tore his eyes away from the other’s, trying to take in their whole face. Their handsome, dark face, the gentle curls that nearly covered one of his eyes and white flecks that decorated the left side of their face. How had Virgil not noticed those sooner?

“Sir?” He asked, trying not to get freaked out by the stranger still holding his arm.

The stranger’s eyes were wide with fear, shock and regret. 

“Is something wrong?” 

Virgil really wanted to get away from them. The aching familiarity wasn’t of the comforting kind. They radiated a discomforting sense of dark power, the way they held themself gave the impression of someone who was used to being feared.

“No,” the stranger said, their voice rasping faintly, coiling around the consonants like a snake. They let go and turned round abruptly, their toga sweeping behind them. 

Before long, the bustling streets had swallowed them and Virgil was left with a strange ache in his heart and the stench of seared flesh in his nostrils. Something wet rolled down his cheeks and he wiped it away quickly. Must be the dust.

Virgil made it home just as the sun's rays touched the mountains and lit the sky up in stunning shades of pink and orange. He wished he had the time to admire it, to spend even a few seconds standing still and breathing in the calm of a city at dusk. But he had to get home, the streets were dangerous at night, definitely this far from the city center. And no one would help someone who looked like him.

He curled his fingers tight around the small knife he had stolen from a street vendor and hurried through the narrow alleyways. He nearly bolted up the stairs to his apartment and arrived at the door panting slightly.

Roman swung open the door and immediately raised an eyebrow at how winded he sounded. 

“Did you run home?” 

“No,” Virgil lied.

Roman’s eyebrow rose even higher.

“Maybe. It’s dark, alright. My master kept me working late.”

“He always does,” Roman huffed and threw himself down on the bed “Did anything interesting happen at work today?” 

“Nope, same as always. Well, I did meet this stranger on my way between shops. They were weird.” Virgil nearly shuddered as he remembered them. The strange memory of their encounter had haunted him all day.

“Ooh, a mysterious stranger. Were they handsome? Describe them to me.”

“Why do you even care?” Virgil sighed as he grabbed a piece of bread and sat down next to Roman, stretching out his aching and tired legs. The day had been back-breaking as usual and all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep and not think of mysterious and handsome strangers. 

“ _ Carissimus _ , it is the eternal tragedy of my life that I will never be able to gaze upon the beauty of men. The least you could do is alleviate my suffering.” 

“Gods, you’re so dramatic,” Virgil mumbled around a mouthful of bread.

“But that’s what you love about me!” Roman exclaimed, trying to swing his arm around Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil quickly raised a hand to stop the incoming hit, all too used to his friends' antics. 

“Watch it. And also, it really isn’t.” 

Roman pouted and slid his arm around Virgil with a little more coordination this time. Virgil melted into the secure hold. The day may have been long and hard and gruelling but at least he was home now, comforted by the mere presence of his friend.

“There were more quakes today,” Roman eventually murmured. 

“I know.”

“People are leaving.”

“I know.”

Roman shifted upright and Virgil nearly whined at the loss of contact.

“Aren’t you worried?”

“I am, but we can’t just leave. We barely have enough money to pay for our  _ insula  _ and if we leave now, I’ll lose my job,” Virgil explained “The quakes aren’t anything new, we’ve survived them before, we’ll survive them again.”

“Right,” Roman muttered.

Virgil tried not to think about the people who had been gathered at the harbour today, tried not to think of the fear and worry he had felt when a quake so violent all the pots had been rattled off the counter had hit. They would be alright, he told himself. This was normal, he’d been living in Pompeii all his life, the quakes were a part of it.

He passed Roman some bread and sank back into his arms.

“We’ll be alright,” He murmured.

~

Virgil had left early, of course he had, always stressed out about work and money and food. Roman sighed, sweeping some  _ sestertii _ into a bag. Virgil had asked him to do some shopping today, after he’d been to the temple.

He bumped into someone on his way down the stairs and stood still in confusion for a moment before the person spoke up.

“Oh, hi Roman,” Patton’s cheerful voice came and Roman immediately brightened. He hadn’t seen his neighbour in days.

“Patton, it’s been a while, my fair friend.”

Patton chuckled. “Yes, my father has been keeping me quite busy. We have a new client and they demand a lot from us. I’m leaving again this afternoon and I probably won’t be home for a few days.”

“Really? That’s disappointing. Virgil and I missed you.”

“Oh, you did? Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, maybe we can go out for dinner when I get back.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

“Are you going to the temple?” Patton asked.

“Yep.”

“I can walk with you, I don’t have anywhere to be this morning.”

“That would be splendid, traffic in this city is hell.”

“I know, it’s hard enough when you  _ can _ see, I have no idea how you do it.”

Roman grinned. “The gods watch over me, dearest one.”

Patton chuckled again. ”Of course they do.”

The walk to the temple went a lot smoother with Patton guiding him. He was right, traffic in Pompeii was impossible to navigate, whether you had a set of functioning eyes or not.

Patton dropped him off with the promise to stop by for dinner when he was back and a quick hug. Roman sent a short prayer to Neptunus to keep his friend safe when he passed the altar. 

He installed himself in his usual spot along the road to the temple, settling into his role as oracle. The first clients followed shortly after, curious about their futures. Roman ran his fingers gently over their palms, weaving grand stories of fortunes the future had in store for them. Told them of the harvests to come and secret lovers. People listened with rapt attention. Roman had no idea how much of it they believed. He didn’t even have any idea of how much of it he believed but he couldn’t deny it sold well. Whether these people were actually looking for advice on their future or just entertained by the stories he spun, they were all too eager to leave him with offerings and payment. 

Suddenly, he heard exclamations and cries coming from further down the road and the people in front of him got up and ran away, without any explanation about what was going on.

“Really?” He grumbled, as he got up and followed the hubbub, curious to find the source of the excitement “Just running off like that? You’d think they have more respect for an oracle.”

“Maybe they’re just tired of hearing lies.” An amused, rasping voice remarked from his right. Roman shook away thoughts of fire and snakes and turned to the person, plastering on an offended expression. “Excuse you! They’re not lies, they’re real prophecies.”

“Right.” The voice said, not sounding very convinced. 

“What do you even know about truth, mister...?” Roman asked, feeling slightly hurt that this stranger was doubting him. It wasn’t the first time someone had called him a fraud but for some unknowable reason, he wanted this stranger to think better of him.

“More than you do, I think,” The stranger murmured “And my name is Janus”. A body knocked into Roman, voices swirled around him, almost overwhelmingly loud. If Roman didn’t know better, he would almost say they were in the middle of the excitement that had led him here.

The stranger moved forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Roman’s cheekbone. A standard greeting but Roman froze. The stranger’s lips were ice cold yet he was reminded abruptly of raging flames. He breathed around the sudden feel of ashes and smoke nestled in his throat.

“Like the god,” He managed, trying for a lighthearted tone.

“Quite so,” They chuckled and Roman realized they were still standing incredibly close, if he shifted even the slightest bit, he would be pressed fully against them.

The stranger stepped away just as he was thinking this.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, but I must go.  _ Vale _ , Roman.”

The crowd rushed past Roman as he tried to shake off the burning sensation. Whispers of  _ Janus, gods and fire _ resounded around him and he couldn’t tell if it was the crowds or his mind.

He shook his head and walked resolutely away from the temple road. If there was someone important there today, there would be few people interested in a lowly oracle. It would be better to head to the market before the evening rush.

  
  


Roman walked along the busy main street, trying to locate the products he needed. Generally, he would do this with Patton or one of his sisters, but today no one was available to help him out. 

He followed his nose, as far as he was able to pick anything out from the horse shit and smell of unwashed bodies, and the more reliable cries of merchants praising their wares . 

He stopped at a small stall, in a corner of the market that was slightly less busy. The faint smell of spices gave him the impression he was in the right place.

“Excuse me!” He called out, hoping the shopkeeper wasn’t busy with another client “Do you sell spices?”

A deep, sonorous voice replied, Latin sounding unfamiliar on their tongue.

“The racks are full of herbs, I’m not sure how much more obvious I could make it,” He snarked.

Roman smiled and bounced on his heels, showing his cane. “Well, I’m sure it's obvious to everyone else, but it’s not as easy for me.”

He had the suspicion, based on the strangers beautifully melodious voice, that he must be at least the slightest bit handsome. And Roman had always been weak for handsome men.

“Oh, my apologies, I hadn’t noticed.”

“No problem, you’re not the first. So do you have pepper or cinnamon? I want to surprise my friend.”

“I do.” Roman heard him shuffle around with some products.

“Here,” he pushed something across the counter and Roman felt the familiar rough swirls of cinnamon and a bag of loose peppercorns “that’s three  _ sestersii _ .”

“And you couldn’t lower the price for one so handsome as me?” Roman asked, leaning against the counter in what he hoped was an enticing position.

“No, prices are fixed.” The shopkeeper replied, but he did clear his throat awkwardly. Roman imagined he was blushing and counted it as a win.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll change your mind one day. How long are you in town?” 

“Five days, I’m heading to Parthenope after.”

“Parthenope, you say? How interesting, I’ve never been there.”

The shopkeeper chuckled. “Neither have I.”

“Well, that’s five more days in which I might have the fortune of bumping into you. What’s your name?”

“Logan. Yours?”

“Roman.”

“Roman, really?” Logan chuckled.

“Yeah, my mother was quite patriotic, or she just hoped it would put me in good graces with the romans.”

“Mhmm...and did it work?”

“Not yet, but I’m still hoping.”

Another customer cleared their throat behind Roman and he smiled apologetically at Logan.

“Looks like you have to get back to work. I’ll see you around though.” He smiled and waved over his shoulder as he walked away.

Logan called out a soft bye as he walked away and Roman smiled. Virgil’s mysterious stranger had nothing on this handsome shopkeeper.

He returned to Logan’s little stall the next three days. The temple was still abuzz with the news of some important person visiting, meaning Roman had near to no clients, everyone was too preoccupied with visiting this remarkable figure. Roman didn’t feel the need to meet them himself, or even find out who it was. 

All he knew was they were stealing his business and clearly thought way too highly of themself, seeing as they drew a whole temple to them.

So, he was hanging around Logan’s shop, running his hand through the bushes of sage tied together with rough twine.

“So, where are you staying?” He asked in between clients.

“The boarding house down the street.” Logan said as he grabbed something that clattered loudly.

Roman wrinkled his nose. “Felix’s?”

“Yes, why? Is there a problem with that establishment?”

“It’s alright, I guess. You won’t get gutted in your sleep for what it’s worth. The food isn’t that impressive though.”

“It’s edible.”

“You know, you could always come over. I’m quite the skilled cook and you could meet my friend.”

“I think if I want to avoid being gutted, following a random man home is not the best course of action.”

“I’m not a random man, you’ve known me for three whole days!”

“Truly, an eternity.”

“Come on, you have to be tired of the same old bread and soup all the time.”

Logan sighed. “Alright, but if you stab me, I will come back to haunt you.”

“Noted, come on!” Roman sprung up from where he was leaning against the wall.

“Wait, I have to close up first.”

“Boring.”

Roma felt just the tiniest sliver of nerves when he led Logan home. Their apartment wasn’t the grandest, what would Logan think of it? And what if Logan didn’t like Virgil? What if Virgil didn’t like Logan? 

He masked his nerves by chattering even louder, pointing out landmarks Virgil had pointed out to him, once upon a time. He really hoped he had remembered them correctly. Either way, Logan was nice enough not to point out the mistakes Roman made, or just didn’t know any better, seeing as he was new to the city.

He opened the door of their apartment, where Virgil was already busying himself with the fire. Roman heard the surprise and apprehension in his voice when he greeted them.

“Logan, this is Virgil. Virgil, this is Logan. We met in the market.”

Logan walked past Roman.

“Hello Virgil, it’s nice to meet you, Roman told me a lot about you.”

“Of course he did. It’s nice to meet you too.” 

They hit it off, surprisingly. Virgil was not someone who trusted easily, his past had shaped him in ugly ways, but somehow, he didn’t seem at all apprehensive about Logan.

Soon Logan was telling them all about the places he had been, describing the smell of the harbours, the feel of richly embroidered cloth, the noise and hubbub of Rome. As Roman busied himself with the fire and food, Virgil listened, enraptured to Logan’s stories. 

Roman smiled to himself. Virgil had always wanted to travel, get away from this city and the memories it brought with it. He hoped one day they would have enough money to get out of here and see all the places Logan was describing.

As he turned around to grab some of the spices he had bought from Logan, a deep rumble resounded from all around them. The ground started to shake and Roman reached over to steady the cups quickly.

“Virgil, the fire!” He called. They had all seen the dangers an out of control fire could bring.

“On it.”

Logan breathed in sharply, surprised. “What’s happening?”

“Earthquake, don’t worry they happen sometimes.” Roman called back, still focusing on keeping their meager possessions from clattering to the ground.

“Not that,” Logan snapped, “Look out the window!”

Roman heard Virgil gasp.

“What? What’s going on?” He whipped his head around, trying to figure out what they were staring at.

“There’s… the mountain it’s...Oh gods.” Virgil said unhelpfully.

“A cloud, it’s coming from the mountain... I think. It’s huge,” Logan supplied more helpfully.

The ground shook harder and Roman heard the terrifying sound of something creaking. He imagined the floor buckling underneath them.

“We need to get out of here.” Virgil said and grabbed his arm. Roman had never agreed with his friend more.

They thundered down the stairs, nearly slipping down the worn steps.

Virgil froze when they reached the bottom, his hand tightening around Roman. Roman could almost feel the crowds of people rushing past on the street, their screams overwhelmingly loud. A body brushed past Virgil and he stepped back.

“Virgil.” He tried to tug him along.  _ I can’t do this alone. _

Another hand slipped into his and pulled him forward.

“Virgil, come on!”

_ Logan. He hadn’t left. _

Roman’s heart leapt with joy. They weren’t alone in this. The strong, calloused hand held him tightly, dragging him resolutely forward. Virgil seemed to have composed himself and started walking faster, pressing close to Roman.

All around them, bodies rushed past, nails and jewelry hooking on their bare arms. Roman stumbled over a stone, or something else, and Virgil hauled him upright. 

“We need to get to the harbour.” Logan gasped.

Roman nodded frantically. That seemed like the most logical thing to do. 

Something hard hit his head and for a moment he thought he’d walked into something. Then another something hit his arms and Virgil cried out.

“What?”

“Rocks, they’re falling from the sky!” Virgil yelled.

They continued running, as rocks pelted them from the heavens. Roman felt large bruises blooming on his arms and torso. 

And if those weren’t enough, hot ashes started to cover his skin, giving the impression he was on fire, burning his skin.

Logan abruptly pulled them in another direction, away from the choking crowd. Their bodies crashed into each other and Roman slid down against a wall. 

“We’re not going to make it.” Logan panted.

Virgil whimpered. “We’re going to die.”

Roman wrapped his arms around them, drawing them close.

“No, we’re not.” He promised, hoping he didn’t sound as scared as he felt.

More ashes rained down, burning into their skin. He breathed in, hot fire coursing down his throat.

Logan curled in closer, pressing his face into Roman’s collarbone.

“We’re going to be fine.” Roman whispered, praying to Fortuna to make it true.

“Falsehood.” Logan whispered back, a wet laugh breaking his voice.

Roman drew them closer, impossibly closer. Felt their shallow breaths against his skin, their erratic heartbeats against his chest. Their limbs tangled so close together he had no idea where he ended and the others began.

“V? Virge? Virgil?” He called softly.

Virgil didn’t reply, his breathing shallow, nearly non-existent. His delicate eyelashes fluttered against Roman’s cheek.

“I love you, Virgil,” He told him, hoping he could hear.

They fell into silence, as Roman dragged in breath after painful breath, forcing himself to stay awake. He’d promised them they would be alright, he was going to make good on that promise.

Ashes rained down, burning constellations into their skin and Roman tightened his grip, trying in vain to shield them.

“Roman?” Logan’s voice came, rough and rasping, laced with pain.

Roman hummed in reply.

“Thank you.”

Roman wished he could reply, wished he could tell him how the first time he’d heard his voice, it felt like he’d found a missing piece of himself. Wished he could talk about how special it was that Virgil had trusted him immediately, how hearing the two of them talk felt like coming home. There was so much he wished to say, so many words still unspoken, so many feelings left unvoiced.

They could have had so much more.

He breathed out, a last tired, rasping exhale. He hoped that wherever they went, they went together.

~

Patton stared at the city from the bow of the ship, tears streaming openly down his face. 

Refugees had started pouring into the harbour just as they were preparing to leave, covered in soot and ashes and bringing tales of a city on fire.

Patton had scoured their faces, hoping to catch a glimpse of anyone familiar, a flash of deep brown hair and a familiar radiant smile, a mop of unruly, raven black hair hanging over shadowed eyes and fine features.

When Aurora tinged the skies pink, a day after they had planned their leave from the harbour, they finally set sail for Pompeii.

They hadn’t sailed out the day before, the harbour too clogged with incoming refugees and Patton’s captain had been too scared to sail straight into an unknown danger. He spent the whole night helping out the refugees, bringing round water and bandaging burns. 

And now here he was, staring at the terrifyingly dark cloud that covered the landscape so familiar to him.

They made it into the harbour, or what once was the harbour. It was unrecognizable now, covered in ash and rocks. Getting off the ship, Patton felt like he was choking. Whether it was because of the thick cloud of ashes or the grief at seeing his city and the people in it buried like this, he did not know. 

The others headed towards their houses and started digging, hoping to find anything salvageable.

Patton couldn’t stomach the thought of returning to an unrecognizable home. A home he had spent years saving for and decorating, a place that was supposed to last him a lifetime. He had spent so many happy days there, curled up with Roman and Virgil on the couch, telling them about his time at sea and listening to Virgil complain about his work while Roman bragged about how much he made at the temple. 

A sob burst past his lips and soon he was crying, loud, ugly tears that streamed down his face and felt like they would never stop. 

He could kid himself with false hope, tell himself they had made it out, that he’d just missed them in the harbour, that they had fled to Misenum instead. But it felt so false. There was almost no doubt in his heart they hadn’t made it out.

A sound startled him and he looked up. 

On the other side of the street a stranger stood, their dark hair speckled with ash, their skin smudged with soot. Their eyes were filled with grief and pain as they stared at him. They bowed their head guiltily.

Patton felt a sudden, boiling rage fill him, as if the stranger was at fault for everything that had happened here, as if they had been the one who had taken his friends from him.

The stranger walked away and Patton’s anger drained with them. He turned back to the harbour. 

There was nothing left for him here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by: my five years of Latin studies and the fact that I still had to look up the word for appartement in Latin.


	3. Over the river and down by the castle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All your lovely comments have motivated me to actually start writing again, so a big thank you to everyone who left a comment, you're all amazing!

Patton slung a large bag of apples over his shoulder, swaying minutely under the weight. He righted himself as much as possible and strode purposefully to the kitchens, trying to avoid bumping into any servants on the way over. 

A familiar voice calling out to him made him put the bag down for a moment. 

“Hello, Patton, It’s been a while since I’ve seen you here.” The familiar deep rumble of Virgil’s voice made his heart pick up the pace slightly.

“Well, you know how it is, had to wait for the apples to grow first.” He nudged the large bag with his foot.

“I see,” Virgil chuckled, “Do you require some assistance?”

Really, he didn’t. But then Virgil would have to head off to do guard duties and well, helping the castle deliverer couldn’t be such a waste of his time.

“That would be nice, thank you.”

Virgil picked up the bag effortlessly and Patton definitely didn’t oggle those strong arms. 

“How is everything at the farm?” Virgil asked him.

“Same as always, the crops are growing, the goats are bleating, the dogs are full of boundless energy and never sit still.”

“It sounds nice,” Virgil sighed.

“You could come over sometime, I can show you around if you want.”

Virgil dropped the bag into one of the storage bins and smiled at him fondly.

“I’d love to.”

Patton heard scuffling around him and turned to see Logan and Roman walk across the courtyard as everyone dropped into bows and curtseys. Patton and Virgil quickly followed suit.

Logan walked towards them and Roman followed, waving his hand at everyone to signal they could get on with their tasks. Patton and Virgil straightened.

“Hello Patton,it’s good to see you again. We’ve certainly missed your apples,” Logan said.

“Just my apples?” Patton asked teasingly.

“Of course not,” Roman interjected, slinging an arm around his wife, “We’ve also missed your vibrant personality.”

Logan rolled her eyes. “Yes perhaps that too.”

Patton smiled happily. “I knew you liked me,” He cheered.

“It’s not like they keep it a secret,” Virgil grumbled.

“Shut up, dark and gloomy, we love you too,” Roman said.

“Patton, I had a question for you,” Logan said, ignoring her husband, “There will be a party for a visiting royal soon, we were wondering if you wanted to attend?”

Roman turned hopeful eyes on him and even Virgil seemed expectant.

“Uhh...I don’t know,” He ran a hand through his hair nervously, “It isn’t exactly traditional for a lord to invite a farmer to a party.”

“And when have we ever been  _ traditional?” _ Roman asked with a certain amount of disdain.

“Patton, you mustn't worry about that. We want you there and it doesn’t matter what others think or what is traditional,” Logan said more helpfully.

With three pairs of hopeful eyes on him, how could Patton say no? “Fine,” he conceded, but he couldn’t hide the glimmer of excitement in his voice. Roman beamed at him and Virgil and Logan gave him soft smiles.

~

  
  


Roman watched his wife pull out a pin from her cap and stick it somewhere else for the fourth time. 

“Darling,” He sighed, “What are you doing?”

“They’re stabbing into my brain,” Logan complained.

“Well, they aren’t going to kill you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You’ll have to bear it tonight.”

“It’s preposterous, why is my hair so scandalous that I must keep it covered?” Logan sighed.

Roman gently tucked a curl back under the fabric.

“We wouldn’t want to shock her royal highness with your terribly sinful hair, now would we?” Roman asked with a grin.

Logan rolled her eyes.

“Let’s go,” She pulled him towards the door, “I think being late to greet our esteemed guest is worse than some loose curls.”

Virgil smiled at them when they arrived at the grand door.

“I like the new tunic,” Roman complimented.

“Thank you, my lord,” A blush coloured his cheeks, “I wanted to make a good impression on the royal lady.”

“And not on me?” Roman gasped, “Is she more important to you?”

“I think you’ve got a pretty good impression of me already,” Virgil smirked.

Logan sighed. “If you two are done flirting, can we get going?”

“Sorry, my lady,” Virgil apologized.

“No matter,” Logan smiled at him, “Just remember it’s your night off too, having fun every once in a while is greatly beneficial to your health.”

Virgil groaned. “Of course, my lady.”

“Come on, let’s go.” Roman whined, pulling Logan along. She rolled her eyes exasperatedly at Virgil.

As they entered the grand room, people all around them dropped into curtsies and bows. Roman smiled and waved at them graciously, his eyes skipping over them as he looked for a distinctive mop of curly brown hair.

In the middle of the room, an imposing figure stood, saffron yellow robes swirling around her, delicate embroidery coiling over the dress. One side of her face was covered in delicate white flecks, like the ashes swirling from the fireplace. 

“Your majesty,” Roman bowed deeply. Beside him, Logan dropped into a curtsy.

She smiled at them. “Lord Roman,” She acknowledged, in a voice that rasped and choked. “I thank you for receiving me in your castle.”

“The honour is all ours, princess Janus. It is not often royalty makes their way to lands as forgotten as ours,” Logan chimed in.

A strange look passed over the royals face. “Even forgotten lands are valuable to the kingdom.”

Somewhere in the room, musicians started their song. Roman beamed at Janus. 

“May I ask this dance of you?” He offered her his hand. Janus graciously accepted, sending one last indiscernible look towards Logan.

They swept gracefully over the dance floor, Janus’s robes swirling around them. She stepped backwards, pulling him close. 

“Your lady is quite stunning,” Janus rasped into his ear, before pulling away into a spin.

Roman smiled. Logan was the one person he always felt happy talking to or about.

“Thank you, I am lucky that I was able to marry her.”

“A marriage like yours is rare in these times.”

Roman frowned at the strange phrase.  _ These times. _

“I suppose so.”

He watched Logan from the corner of his eye, smiling fondly when she pulled Patton into a dance. He had noticed the way she hung around the farmer, even going so far as inviting him to a party at the castle.

Janus followed his gaze and smirked. “Truly a unique marriage.”

She swept out her arm, forcing Roman to follow along. Her hands wrapped around his, vice like and burning.

Roman felt his control of the situation slipping, his bumbling court dance no match for her smooth, calculated steps.

She wouldn’t let him go, leading with precise step. He was caught, swirling around her like a moth round a flame. 

She smiled at him, sharp and serpent like and Roman felt his breath leaving his body all at once. He knew immediately he was caught, like a fly in syrup, trapped in her beauty and sharp smile.

It felt dangerous, like falling and flying all at the same time, like an ember dancing into the night sky. He wondered how long before he burned out. 

Roman stumbled slightly as he walked to the edge of the room, leaning against a wall to hide the way his hands were shaking and his heart was beating in his throat.

Virgil sauntered over to him and smirked. “That looked fun.”

“Shut up,” Roman groaned, looking over to where Janus was wrapped up in a conversation with Logan. He wondered whether his wife’s brilliant mind would be a match for Janus's sharp wit. Putting those two together seemed akin to pointing a loaded gun at a barrel filled with gunpowder.

He looked back at Virgil, who’s eyes were caught on his face. He smiled at him and Virgil gave a small smile back. He wished they weren’t in a room full of people, wished he could reach out and tangle their hands together.

“What’re you staring at?” Virgil asked, leaning back against the wall, their shoulders pressing together.

“You.”

Virgil’s cheeks went red. “Don’t,” He grumbled.

“Why not? What are you scared of?”

“People, judgement, the church, there’s a lot of reasons.”

Roman sighed, frustrated. “I am lord of this land, yet I still can’t openly love who I want?” he complained.

“You can show me as much love as you want behind closed doors.”

“I’m keeping you to that.”

Virgil pushed off the wall as a head of curls came bouncing over to them. Roman’s grin brightened even more.

“Welcome, my dear Patton. It is a pleasure to have you here this evening,” Roman beamed, giving him a small bow. 

Patton blushed. “Stop that,” he whispered, “I’m supposed to be the one bowing.”

“It is traditional to bow to people more important than you, and you, my dearest, are incredibly important to me.” 

Patton turned an even darker red as Virgil chuckled. “Stop flirting, you’re going to break him.”

“That’s the plan, my stormy knight.”

As the party petered out and the other subjects headed home, the nobles a titter with gossip, the evening found them gathered in Logan’s study, all draped over plush couches and chairs. 

Janus lounged imposingly on a chair, her legs settled on Roman’s lap, a goblet of wine clutched in her hand. Logan lay draped over Patton’s lap, her hands pointing up at the stars she had painstakingly painted onto her ceiling, refusing to let any of the castle staff assist. Virgil stared at her from where he was leaning against Patton’s side, his cheeks flushed from the wine.

And Roman sat in the middle of it all, head filled with a blissful feeling that could probably be attributed to the alcohol but he liked to think came from the stunning people that surrounded him. He reached forward and plucked the goblet from Janus’s hands, taking a deep swig. 

“Hey,” She protested, “That’s mine.”

“What are you going to do about it,  _ your majesty _ ?” Roman teased.

“Most people wouldn’t dare take such a tone with me.”

“Well, lucky for you, Roman isn’t most people,” Virgil chuckled.

“I noticed,” Janus said with a fond smile. 

“That’s why we love him,” Patton said.

“Bold of you to assume I love him,” Logan teased.

“You married him!”

“And I have my regrets.”

“How dare!” Roman gasped, offended.

Logan just smirked and blew Roman a kiss. 

He looked up at Janus, who was remarkably quiet. She stared at all of them with a strange expression, a mixture of fondness and something sad. Roman shot her a questioning look and she shook her head.

He turned his attention back to the others, where Logan and Virgil were complaining about arranged marriages and sexism. Patton was running his hand through Logan’s hair with a fond smile, occasionally contributing a pun that made the others sigh. 

Roman felt a strange feeling come over him as he looked at the scene, at the domesticity of it. 

_ It couldn’t last _

~

Patton poked the fire a few times and hung his pot on the hook. He hummed as he busied himself in the kitchen, sweeping the floor and rearranging the cups.

A knock on the door startled him. Who would be there so late? A nervous feeling nestled itself in his throat but he shrugged it off, walking resolutely to the door.

Peter’s ugly, pockmarked face leered at him when he opened the door. Patton smiled at him despite the strong smell emanating from the man. He smiled back, showcasing a row of blackened teeth. Patton fought to keep his smile pleasant.

“Hello Peter, how can I help you?” He asked as pleasantly as he could.

“Ah, you know, just saying hi like a good neighbour.”

“Right,” Because Peter definitely did things out of the goodness of his heart. It wasn’t like the only times he acknowledged Patton was to yell at him because his apple tree was throwing shadows on his garden or his goat was eating his grass.

“How was the party?” Peter asked.

Patton’s fingers tightened around the doorframe, resisting the urge to slam it shut.

“Great. Now I really should make sure my soup isn’t boiling over.” Patton tried to shut the door but Peter reached out one burly arm and stopped him. 

Now Patton wasn’t weak by any counts. When one spends the majority of their time hauling around farm equipment and strong arming cows, one had the tendency to build some muscle. But compared to Peter, he was barely more than a willow’s twig.

Peter’s expression suddenly soured, the thins veneer of sweetness he had plastered on melting away. Patton knew his time was up.

“Enough of that, you’re coming with us,” He grabbed Patton’s arm.

“Let me go,” Patton protested, tugging at his hold.

Peter started dragging him forward and Patton’s breath caught when he saw a circle of torches gathered in the street. He started struggling, driving an elbow into Peter’s side.

When that didn’t work he aimed his knee at his crotch and Peter loosened his grip, his hands going to his nether regions instead.

A call went out from the circle of torches but he didn’t stick around to find out what they had said, bolting full speed towards the woods.

Loud footsteps followed after him and he picked up speed, air gasping through his throat. The small distance to the forest seemed endlessly long at that moment. Like running in a dream and finding you can’t move. 

A body slammed into his and he tumbled to the ground, a rock harshly colliding with his head. He groaned as bright light filled his vision. 

A rough hand tangled itself in his curls and forced him to look up. He squinted through bleary eyes, the torches gathering around them blinding him.

“You’re not going anywhere, little piglet,” The person holding him barked. Cruel laughs echoed around him as Patton struggled to find what was funny about the statement.

“Fuck off,” He gasped. He was rewarded with the hand roughly yanking at his hair, forcing his neck to snap upwards.

The man who owned the hand crouched down in front of him. 

“Look at me, you rat,” He ordered.

Patton glared at him.

“Thought you’d suck up to those fancy nobles, didn’t you? Thought you could please some ugly lord and be set for life? Well, unfortunately for you, I don’t think your neighbours quite agree,” The man crowed.

Patton looked around. At the farmer’s daughter and the baker’s husband, at his neighbour and the priest, he looked at the people he had grown up with, discussed the harvest with. In the ghostly light of the torches, they didn’t look much like the people he knew. 

“What do you want from me?” He asked, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

“Nothing, just want to make sure you don’t fly up to the palace and tell our good lord anything about what’s happening down here.”

Patton turned back to the man holding him. He wasn’t from this town, Patton had never seen him around. Judging from his scruffy uniform and the manic gleam in his eyes, he was someone with power, and someone who likes to abuse that power.

“You will not take the castle,” He told him, thinking of Virgil pointing out the defences on the wall. He looked at the townsfolk. “And do you really think some other lord will treat you better? At least Roman is fair, others will only care to exploit you.”

“That’s what some loyalist would say,” The man in front of him snarled.

“They promised us a reduced grain tax and said we would be able to govern our own town,” The farmer’s daughter explained.

“And you really think they’ll keep that promise?”

“Enough!” The commander tightened the grip on his curls and dragged him upright, “He tells lies.”

Patton stumbled along, trying his best not to fall. His neck burned and every time the commander tugged harder, blinding lights of pain exploded behind his eyelids. 

He wanted to plead, cry, scream, but couldn’t, the words choking off as soon as they made it into his throat. They would make no difference anyways.

They forced him on his knees again and when he sank down, his hands collided with familiar wet pebbles. He closed his eyes, digging his hands into the rocks, feeling the cold whorls between his fingers. 

_ Please,  _ he prayed,  _ not like this.  _

Not on an evening when his soup was happily bubbling on the stove, not on a day when Virgil had taken him up the north tower to show him the view and Logan had waved at him from across the hall and he was finally finding a place to call home.

But the universe rarely listens to desperate prayers whispered in the dark.

Hands grabbed his arms and dragged him into the water. It soaked his breeches, the fabric clinging to his shins. His foot hooked on a branch, scraping his skin.

He opened his eyes and stared down at the surface of the river, watching as the water reflected the orange light of the torches, creating a stained glass window of fire in the small river. 

They forced him down once again and this time he didn’t struggle, didn’t even gasp as the cold water embraced him. His hands trembled.

_ Not again _

A hand positioned itself on the back of his neck. 

He breathed in, deep, gasping, desperate.

_ Not again _

They pushed and Patton started flailing, fighting to get out of the hold.

He couldn’t  _ breathe. _

More hands joined the ones holding him, pressing down, down, down.

The water pressed in, coiling around him, constricting, an embrace turned choke hold.

It flowed into his nose, his mouth, his eyes. 

He writhed and twisted, as his lungs burned inside him, as his chest was set aflame. 

Virgil had told him once drowning was the most peaceful way to go. But all he could feel was an ocean of never ending pain and the terrifying feeling of choking.

_ Not again _

His limbs slowed, numbing themselves to his panic. The water turned from a choking, drowning thing to a gentle embrace as it swept through him. 

Would they cheer when he finally stilled? Would they see the death of their neighbour as a cause for celebration?

He had just wanted a home, a place to feel safe, people who held him close. 

_ I’m sorry _

He wondered if the stars would welcome him. He hoped he had done enough good to be accepted among them.

~

  
  


Virgil tightened the straps on his armour methodically, his thoughts running through all the defense measures that were still active. They would have to hide the lord and lady in one of the cellars. The wrought iron gates were a reliable last line of defence and it was a fairly unexpected hiding place. The attackers would probably check their personal chambers first.

A gentle knock startled himself out of his thoughts. 

“Virgil, you’re brooding,” Logan chided from where she was lounging against the doorframe. Her hair spilled down her shoulders, loose from the usual braid she kept it in. 

Virgil managed a smile. “Just trying to keep you safe.”

Logan sighed, her expression falling. “I know, that’s what I’m scared of.”

Virgil raised a questioning eyebrow.

“You’re going to sacrifice yourself for us, aren’t you?”

“It’s my job.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

“I have to do this.”

“That’s the thing Virgil,” Logan stepped closer, “You don’t, many of the castle staff have fled and that is perfectly acceptable. They will not rest till they have captured us, but you can still leave.”

“Not without you,” Virgil said. 

Logan gave him a fragile smile. She reached up a hand to cup the back of his neck and pressed their foreheads together.

Virgil leaned into it, the gentle touch grounding him for one fragile moment.

“Always so stubborn.”

“You know me,” Virgil laughed.

Logan pulled away and Virgil found himself immediately missing her touch.

“I have to go. Be careful,” She told him firmly.

“Is that an order, my lady?” Virgil teased.

Logan sighed. “A request.”

She strode out of the room and Virgil pulled the last strap into place, already heading towards the great gate.

~

Roman stared at Janus as he held his wife close, his sword drawn. She stood near the entrance, her fists clenching and unclenching, as if she was preparing to fight off all their attackers herself. 

Another loud bang resounded from above them and Roman tightened his grip on Logan. She smiled at him, a soft, fragile thing. 

“I told you to put that guard post in the village,” she joked, her voice trembling just slightly.

“You’re going to use our last moments together to say I told you so?” Roman asked as he leaned his forehead against hers.

“You know me,” she said softly.

“I do,” Roman whispered back as he ran a hand through her long locks. “I love you Lo,” he said desperately. If these really were their last moments, he needed her to know.

“I love you too.”

A bang on the door made them look up. Janus hissed out a sharp breath. “They’re here.”

Logan squeezed his hand one last time before letting go. She curled her grip around a long dagger, fury and determination blazing on her face. This was their home, these were their people, and they weren’t letting it go down without putting up a fight.

Janus turned to them as the door started to splinter, the darkness of the cellar casting her face in shadows. Her eyes seemed to glow like embers, an unfamiliar grief smoldering in them. 

“I’m sorry,” she told them, an apology that transcended centuries, an apology that had burned through her body since the fires rained down from the sky. 

As the wood of the door buckled, Roman smiled. “See you on the other side,” he told her as she slipped away, the crowds of soldiers parting around her without a thought.

The world narrowed to flashing steel and whirling limbs and blood spattering over rough hewn stones. Roman threw his body into the fight with a ferocity he had never shown before. Grief and rage and overwhelming love for all the people in this castle, all the people who had lain down their lives for him.

He caught a sword heading for Logan’s unprotected back, cursing her lack of defence. The force made him stumble and a sword slipped through his own defence, slicing open his thigh. 

He sunk down to the floor with a cry, pressing his free hand to the gash to stem the bleeding. A blow landed on his shoulder, a knife caught his ribs. Blows continued, unending and violent. So much hate for a person they didn’t know, for a cause they barely believed in. 

From across the room, Logan smiled at him, blood pouring down her face, eyes hazy with pain. 

He reached out a hand to her, dropping his sword. The fight was over, his body trembling with pain, blood loss making his thoughts slow. 

A blow to the back of his head made him fall forward, his head landing roughly on the bloodsoaked floor. His hand closed around Logan’s, feeling her squeeze tightly.

He curled up and closed his eyes, thinking of a warm evening spent in front of the fire, a yellow dress spread over his lap, painted stars winking on the ceiling above them. He smiled despite the fire raging through his body, despite the cries that tore themself from his body, despite the unerring violence around him.

Logan’s hand went slack in his and he let out a last shaky breath from burning lungs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by: that one medieval castle I visited over winter break.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh wow, I'm finally posting this. I don't know how often this will update, but I wanted to post seeing as it was just sitting in my drafts for ages. So I hope you enjoy it and if you did, please leave a comment, it fuels my writing.


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